Tea, No Sympathy
by starfishstar
Summary: Regulus keeps coming to tea at Narcissa's home to rant and rave about how Sirius is a traitor to the family. But they've all known that for ages, haven't they? (Part 2 of La Ronde Noire)


**Notes: **

The idea for this story arose directly out of my writing of "The Landlord's Other Daughter," which is itself a remix of "The Chimes at Midnight," stereolightning's story about Andromeda and Narcissa, which in turn she says was influenced by my Andromeda-centric stories "Saying Yes" and "Two Sisters Take Tea."

Also, my ideas of Narcissa and Regulus' interactions are unquestionably influenced by "I Know Where the Summer Goes" by such_heights.

…So there's some additional reading for you, if you like!

Characters belong to JK Rowling.

Thank you to stereolightning for another extremely helpful beta-read!

**Updated note:**

This story is now part 2 of a series I'm calling "La Ronde Noire." (See part 1: "The Landlord's Other Daughter" for more explanation.)

. . . . .

. . . . .

Regulus is being so _dramatic_, Narcissa thinks.

At home, of course, he plays his role well. He is composed and dutiful, he says "Yes, Father" and "Yes, Mother" whenever necessary. He is now the heir he never expected to be, and Narcissa sees how it weighs on him. There's an air about Regulus now that says he knows just how much every word and gesture matters, how great the scrutiny and how serious the damage if he slips up.

Bellatrix has that, in her own way. Even Sirius had it once, when he was still quite small, though he would surely deny it now.

So Regulus is the heir, now, and he is a dutiful son, his father's shadow at all the right events. But all this summer, he has been coming to tea at Narcissa's home – at Malfoy Manor – far more than the minimum necessary to maintain the good relations between their respective families, and here he rants and raves and falls into histrionics, all because Sirius is a traitor to the family. But honestly, they've all known that for ages, haven't they?

Narcissa remembers when Andromeda left, and she has an idea what he must be feeling. She knows the stabbing shock of finding out that someone you thought cared about you does not, in fact, care; she knows the sick fear of being left to shoulder someone else's responsibilities, left to do everything twice as well to make up for the other's failings.

Narcissa remembers, but she knows she didn't give in to histrionics.

"Regulus," she says, tapping the back of his hand once, sharply, to get his attention. "You have to stop this. You are helping no one, least of all yourself."

He looks up at her across the table of her elegant drawing room, eyes fever bright, dark hair falling across his forehead.

"I have to _do_ something," he says, voice low and urgent. "What am I supposed to _do_?"

"You're doing fine already. I heard Uncle Orion telling Father just the other day how proud he is of you."

"I don't mean _that_," Regulus says, though she sees the telltale flush in his pale cheeks that says he's a little flattered and embarrassed at his father's praise, despite himself. "I mean – he's _wrong_, you know? I'm going to prove him wrong, I'm going to do even more…"

He never says his brother's name, anymore.

"I'm nearly of age," Regulus tumbles on. "I know I'm a little young, still, but I'm _dedicated_ to the cause, surely they can see that…"

Yes, that is the other thing. Lately Regulus has been talking of joining –

But Narcissa hates to even think it aloud. That's too many of the family already.

She is proud of Lucius, of course, terribly proud of the power and influence he has drawn to himself already, but involvement is a double-edged sword, and it can be dangerous as well. Already, that is Lucius, and Bellatrix, and Bellatrix's husband, and Bellatrix's husband's brother…

Regulus will join eventually, she knows he will – his eyes grow bright when he speaks of the Dark Lord and the great Work the Dark Lord will do, and he spends what little free time he has in his father's library, reading everything he can find on the greatest and most obscure of the magical Arts – but he's so young yet. When Narcissa looks at him, she still sees the small boy he once was.

"Have some more tea," she says, and pours. Steam wafts up between them, fragrant and soothing.

Regulus takes the teacup distractedly, eyes darting around the room in ceaseless motion. "If they won't take me, it's not like I can't act on my own," he mutters. "There are things I can do – I have a wand, I know all kinds of spells, there are things I could do…"

"Regulus," she repeats, more loudly.

His eyes snap back to hers, and she holds his gaze long enough that she sees his eyes, finally, begin to focus. She knows he trusts her.

She knows Regulus has always seen her as something of a third parent. She knows she was the only one he could count on to stroke his hair and tell him things would be all right, when Sirius was being reprehensible, Auntie Walburga hysterical and Uncle Orion unyielding. In a family of dramatic people, she and Regulus have always shared the ability to be quiet.

But things must be different now. They are no longer the people they once were.

"Regulus," she says. "You have to be cold, wait for your moment. You want to show the world" – _show Sirius_, she doesn't say – "what you can do? Fine. But this is a waiting game. You are not winning anything by stomping around, wailing about how terrible it all is. Wait, and watch, and when the time is right, I am sure you will find a way to have the effect you wish to have. Perhaps the Dark Lord will call you to his service, but perhaps the time for that is not yet. You will have to show some patience. So for goodness sake, pull yourself together."

He studies her face, from across the table, and she wonders what he sees. Does he, too, see her as the girl she once was? Does he understand yet that things have shifted, that she can no longer indulge him as she once did? He may be too young, still, to understand that time will not stand still, however much he might wish it would.

She feels more than sees as that thin mask slips back into place, the deferential expression he wears around his father and mother all the time now.

"Yes, Narcissa," he says, his voice level, betraying no hint of the desperation radiating out of him just moments ago. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. I'm sorry I've been so upset lately. I'll endeavour not to be."

He raises the cup to his lips and sips his tea, nodding in silent acknowledgement of its warmth and delicate flavour. Regulus really is a very good boy, when all is said and done. She's proud of him.

Why, then, can Narcissa not quite shake the feeling that she has just become the latest in a line of parents and siblings to fail him? This is for his own good, after all. He won't get anywhere in life if he allows himself to be ruled by his emotions this way.

"Good, then," she says, quelling her misgivings. "Now, tell me what you plan to study at school this year."

. . . . .

(Continue to part 3 of La Ronde Noire: "Two Brothers Down a Dark Alley Sometime in 1979")


End file.
